Canvas
by Dreamicide
Summary: She has a desire to be painted. — Dawn


**verse:** game, platinum (though the beginning events were messed around with)  
**notes:** i started this quite a while ago and only recently decided to finish. that explains the drastic style differences in writing, haha. once again i take the term "silent protagonist" to new extremes.  
**additional:** i was challenged to try to write something more flowery than usual. i don't think i did very well, haha sorry.

* * *

**Canvas**

I wish I could tell you that when I twitch my fingers and draw them to the base of my neck it means that I am thinking of you. Because the words and whispers will never escape these lips and my voice will remain shut beneath my ribcage, never given the chance to flutter over this tongue or flex in and out of twisting emotions. I am silent, but still you and everyone else respond to me as if I am racing with words and my vocal chords are able to dance to the rhythm of my thoughts.

And I wonder what it's like to be you; never the chosen one but free to _have_ a voice – a deep and soothing one at that. Always appearing through smoke and white ash to lend a hand and hold onto mine. Always planted outside of white labs and honey milked air to laugh out some gossip and make sure happy birthdays never go unwished. Always around to push the threatening obstacles apart before flashing your porcelain smile, and I am left to wonder to myself if you're genuine in the way that I am not.

This cycle we're caught in has curled over itself thousands of times and I have silently introduced myself with infinite names, but you're always there with your one true title and firm-standing personality carved in stone while mine is continually washed over in sand. And sometimes the jealousy is free to breathe fire down my lungs but most adventures demand that I feel happiness to you, and you never know because you're always reading the words that are apparently pre-etched into the folds of my smile.

The first _first_ time we ever met I was innocent and giddy with the promise of new journeys. My best friend was a strange boy I had never met before and my mother was unfamiliar, uncaring. But it didn't matter because I was about to set off on my own lonesome adventure anyways. Of course, that's when you showed up and talked about your previous journey with the Professor, boasting of fierce pokémon battles and strange cultures. I believed your story then.

And hours and weeks passed afterwards, leading to the days watching over as I came forth as the Champion. I had everything then – money, friends, love – everything…except for a voice. But you had one. You had the best.

And then one day, I was back. Back in the wild fields curiously watching you introduce yourself to me, as if for the first time. Scratching the back of your head and sheepishly admitting that you had just come back from a trip to lands unknown to me. Your validity was wearing thin. And I didn't believe you anymore. I didn't believe you but it didn't stop me from admiring you. Because you may only repeat automatic anecdotes, but you still had a voice. A personality. A name. Everything I did not have – everything that I wanted.

And suddenly the wheels began to turn and our everlasting cycle began. I'll rise to power with my trusted friends and naive smile while you stay rooted in your special patch of dirt, just waiting for me to stop by. We never know how long things will stay that way until the moment we're back at the beginning and reciting friendly hellos to hyperactive boys and intimidating professors. I never quite know what you perceive me to say as you grin widely and my lips stay sewn shut, but I do wish you at least knew – knew that whenever I twitch my fingers and draw them to the base of my neck it means that I am thinking of you.

…

I am Champion for the umpteenth time. You are in your spot with your porcelain smile. Your voice is beautiful, and mine is nonexistent. I know that it is only a matter of time before our story implodes in over itself and we become polite strangers once more.

Then, darkness.

The familiar symptom of a new beginning, and any moment now I will be a young innocent debutante with a new name, but you will be the same. The same as always. I have no personality, but I somehow look forward to hearing you again.

…

But this time I am not in my room. I am in a familiar white lab.

…

If I still lacked a personality, I would have been confused. Instead I felt happy and excited, because I was trotting by the Professor's side on the way to the lake, squinting my eyes to focus on the figures of two boys in the distance. We get closer before introducing ourselves.

I know you. I know you but at the same time, I didn't know you anymore. You smiled the same smile, but your name was no more. Your personality was washed over. Your voice had flickered off. All you had left was your bright smile, leaving me only to assume your words and emotions.

But I was not sad. I could not be sad. I now had a solid personality telling me that I was overjoyed, that there was nothing to be sad about. I now have a voice. I have a name.

My fingers twitched and I brought them up to my collarbone, and for the first time, I spoke.

"Hello! My name is Dawn!"

**End**


End file.
